What had she done? And how did she turn off so successfully? I wanted to know her trick. So I could do it.

Kes beamed, gathering Nila’s willowy frame and tucking her firmly against him again as if she’d never left. Raising his voice, he asked, “Where’s the party? And when does it start?”

Cut scowled, pouring himself another finger of cognac. “You always were too jovial, Kestrel. Tone it down. You’re getting on my nerves.”

Kes’s gaze met mine for a second.

“Don’t want to be on Daddy’s nerves now, do you?” Daniel cackled. His attention never left Nila as Kes manhandled her to a black couch and sat down.

Her dark eyes flickered between me and my family—never locking onto one of us for long, hiding her thoughts.

“Enough, Daniel.” Waving his now empty glass, Cut added, “Retrieve the box.”

Daniel shook his head, inching toward Nila. “In a moment, Pop.”

Nila sat up straight, her nostrils flaring in fear and repulsion as Dan squatted before her. “Hello, pretty Weaver. Just say the word and I’ll steal you from my brother. I’m sure you’re bored of him by now.” He placed a hand on her knee, gathering the material of her skirt. “I’m the one you want, admit it.”

I couldn’t stand by and tolerate this bullshit.

“Fuck off, Dan.” I prowled forward, fists clenched. I wanted to throw him across the room. With every step I took, I was exceedingly aware of Cut watching me.

My father said, “Jet, don’t interfere.”

It took everything to obey, but I ceased and stood still.

Nila didn’t flinch, nor look in my direction. Her lips curled in distaste. “Stop touching me, you arsehole.” Her voice was just a whisper, but it echoed dangerously in the room. “I’m not yours to toy with so do me a favour and leave.”

My mouth twitched.

The atmosphere thickened, fizzing with intensity like a fuse on a bomb.

“I rather like touching you.” Daniel’s fingers tightened.

I stomped forward, unable to stop myself. “Hands off, Dan.” Don’t show too much. I squeezed my eyes for a second, trying to find some sanity amongst the animosity between us. “She’s mine.”

Daniel chuckled, making eye contact. “Just ‘cause you have a plaything doesn’t mean you’re better than me. She belongs to all of us.”

“Not until I say—”

Cut slammed his glass onto the coffee table, rattling the bones of his deceased pet. “Must I mediate every time my sons are in the same fucking room?” Running a hand over his face, he growled, “Kes, seeing as Daniel won’t listen, you go get the box. Dan, shut the fuck up. Jet, control yourself and sit down.”

Kes gave me a look. I knew what he thought, but now was not the time to discuss our family issues. He rose from the couch and headed toward the sixteenth-century sideboard by the entrance.

Moving forward, I kicked Daniel out of the way and took Kes’s spot beside Nila.

Daniel stumbled from my boot before rising in a fit of fury. “One of these days, brother.”

I stood up, towering over him—willing him to raise a fist. “One of these days, indeed, brother.”

Dan breathed hard through his nose. I waited for him to punch me, but he had enough control to snicker and retreat.

“For God’s sake,” Cut muttered. “I raised a bunch of idiots.”

Dan moved to his father’s side. “Only one, Pop. And pity for you, he’s the firstborn.”

My nostrils flared. Fuck, I wanted to knock him out.

Something warm and soft touched the back of my hand. I jumped, looking down at Nila. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder in a wash of ink. Her eyes wide and gleaming with a silent request.

Sit down.

Do what you’re tasked to do.

Protect me.

Her message filtered into my soul, switching my irritation to protection. My legs bent, depositing me beside her. A small gap existed between us, but it didn’t stop my skin from prickling with awareness or her chest from rising when I placed my palm next to her hip and touched her once with my pinky finger.

Her eyes shot to mine, holding the fierce whip of connection.

The blackness of her eyes reflected my lighter ones, showing the strain and anger I couldn’t contain. These wordless moments seemed to happen frequently between us.

Sucking in a breath, Nila broke eye contact and shifted away.

“Got it,” Kes said, moving back toward us.

I risked another glance at Nila. She refused to look at me, her attention split between my father and Kes, who carried a smallish box in his hands.

“What’s going to happen?” Nila whispered, her body swaying a little toward me.

Forcing myself not to inhale her scent, I shrugged. “The tally. It should’ve been done the same day I took the debt.”

Kes set the box before us on the coffee table. It clunked into place with the finality of pain.

This would hurt. For both of us.

“I forgot to do it that day.”

I’d forgotten because I’d permitted myself to feel her grief and pain while I washed her back and wrapped her in bandages. I’d forgotten because I’d shamed myself by masturbating all over her while she’d hung whipped and bleeding.

Nila’s eyes bounced around the Hawks towering over her in a ring of authority. “Do what?”

Could others hear the trace of terror hidden beneath her snappy anger or was I the only one? The only one cursed to listen to her fears and feel her confusion?